


The Vague & The Unmistakable

by wakandan_wardog



Series: Wardog's Tony Stark Bingo 2018 [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Looking back on it, there are several things that should have tipped Steve off that today was his Birthday. (Starting with the fact that it's suddenly clear Tony engineered every one of them.)Happy Birthday, Steve!Prompt FillTony Stark Bingo CardT4: writing format: five things





	The Vague & The Unmistakable

**1: Alarm**

Regardless of whether he needs it or not, Steve has an alarm set every day for six am. He usually wakes up before it’s needed, waving JARVIS off so that the sound won’t disrupt Tony’s sleep. Waking up early also means he gets to stare fondly at his sleeping boyfriend, who is usually curled under his arm or pressed back against his chest as an insistent Little Spoon. Some days he even wakes up with Tony sprawled across his torso, head braced over Steve’s heart like he was listening to it beat until he could fall back asleep.

Steve would vote days like that as the best days. He might, so long as it never gets back to Tony, admit that he stays in on days like that… Waits for Tony to decide to roll away, and then slinks out of bed to go on his run. He can’t help it, the billionaire’s just too endearing while he’s asleep, mouth open, hair a wreck, usually drooling onto Steve’s t-shirt. Steve refuses to call him on it, he’s afraid that might put an end to the whole adorable scene and that’s the _last thing_ he wants.

Today though, today is different. Today Steve wakes up because a very warm body deliberately straddles him, scarred fingers fanning over his ribs and then gliding up his torso to hook over his shoulders. He stays sprawled, alert but pliant, as Tony shifts, curling over him to brush warm lips over his collarbone and up his throat. The scratch of his boyfriend’s facial hair is a familiar comfort, and he can’t quite mask the shiver it elicits.

“I know you’re awake.” Tony murmurs, fond and amused as he more readily drapes himself atop Steve, pulling playfully at the white cotton of the blond’s sleep-shirt. “You’re doing that offensively adorable little smile you do when you try not to smile at me. It’s a pathetic attempt, truly, we both know what a delight I am.”

“I don’t have an offensively adorable little smile.” Steve argues, fighting the smile and still playing asleep for all he’s worth.

(Which admittedly isn’t much, but there’s a Billionaire sprawling over him that can more than make up for whatever he lacks.)

“I note you don’t argue against me being a delight.”

“Would it get me anywhere if I did?” Steve wonders, and he can feel the smile widening.

“Was that an attempt at disproving my theory?” Tony wonders aloud, dryly as though he’s addressing an entire committee to get their assessment of the situation. “I’m not sure what’s worse, the smile, the argument against the smile, or your ridiculous quarter-ass attempt to play dead.”

At this, Steve cracks open an eyelid, squinting up at his boyfriend. “Quarter-ass?”

“Captain Little Ass or no, that wasn’t worth a half-ass attempt.” Tony argues, bronze eyes bright and wicked, dark curls brushed into some semblance of order. “So yes, Captain, quarter-ass. Oh! JARVIS! New call-sign for Steve!”

“Now saving, Captain Quarter-Ass.” The AI replies obediently even as Steve squawks in outrage and flips them both.

It’s with a mix of speed and care that he topples Tony onto the mattress, caging his boyfriend in as he braces himself on his forearms. “TONY!”

Tony laughs as he falls, relaxed and easy, sprawling lazy under Steve’s bulk. His sleep pants are a dark burgundy, slippery and whispering with each movement. They look good against the black of the sheets, the soft gold of his skin. His tee is a deep navy, smooth and stretched loose, but still dark like new. Now that he’s looking at it, Steve realizes it almost matches the sleep pants he’s currently wearing. So, is it one of his tees that he hasn’t ripped all the seams out of yet? That would make sense, it’s roomy on Tony, in spite of his impressive arms and shoulders and the delightful landscape of his back. With the change in position the fabric has fluttered up, flashing a golden line of skin at Tony’s waist, and just a hint of the compelling arch of his hipbones.

 Steve has to fight not to get distracted as he glides his hands up Tony’s arms, gently pinning them where they lay draped above the billionaire’s head. “You change that right now!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” Tony grins, wide and wicked, his eyes skating over Steve’s face before fixing on a point over his shoulder. “Oh, look at the time.”

“Wha?” Steve mumbles in confusion, then jumps as an annoying guitar riff cuts through the room. “Tony!”

“Captain America has an entire island to sprint around, and Lady Liberty knows Manhattan just can’t wait.” Tony beams, pitching his voice to be heard over the shrieking. “On your way, honey, I have meetings so I’ll see you later.”

“Tony! Make it stop!” Steve pouts, releasing his boyfriend’s wrists in favor of covering his ears.

“That’s not what you said last night.” Tony beams, leaning up to catch Steve’s waist and sling him sideways.

Steve goes with the motion in a mix of shock and unbalance, sprawling into the mattress as Tony bounces in the opposite direction. Thankfully the truly awful racket has ceased, leaving them in a silent suite as Tony climbs out of bed. “Chop chop, Captain!”

“Where are you even going?” Steve grumbles, sitting upright. “And I didn’t get a kiss, so it better not be far.”

“So pouty.” Tony smiles softly at him, moving back over to drop a quick kiss on Steve’s mouth. It’s light and fleeting and hardly satisfying. “There you are, and that’s all we have time for now. I have meetings, I said, and you have an Island to circle. Or a bird to bother? Two birds! That’s a wonderful idea. JARVIS? Wake Hawkass and the Falcon, tell them their Captain and Country need them desperately.”

Tony pauses, giving a wicked grin. “Awww, if you were single they’d be your wingmen. J, take a note, would you?”

“JARVIS don’t wake the others, I can run on my own.” Steve argues weakly, grasping for and missing his slippery boyfriend when Tony darts out of reach again. “And I’m not single, so I don’t need wingmen… Hey!”

“Says the Soldier who can’t catch his man!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Meetings.” Tony sing-songs as he dashes away and disappears into the bathroom. “I let you sleep through me brushing my teeth and trimming my beard and even brushing my hair, which you have since rendered a disaster once more. I’ve got to dress, darling, and you have running to do. Shoo now!”

“Your hair was already a disaster.” Steve argues as he reluctantly climbs out of bed and shuffles over to the closet for workout clothes.

Tony’s voice floats out from the bathroom, along with the sound of flying clothing. “But it was an artful disaster, oh Captain my Captain. Now? Just a disaster. Then again, I should roll into a meeting one day fresh out of a make out session with you. ‘ _Styled by Captain America_ ’ is all I’ll say when Pepper looks at me disappointed. Do you think you could give me a hickey or two that she’s guaranteed to see? Just, from a conceptual standpoint.”

Steve considers it for a moment, something warm kindling in his belly at the thought of sending Tony into the office thoroughly rumpled. Love bites on his throat, his hair tangled by Steve’s hands… It shouldn’t be appealing, but he’s got a possessive streak wider than most and he can admit that to himself if no one else. (Well, no one besides Tony. Tony definitely knows.) “Pepper would kill me.”

Tony’s laugh is rude but not unfounded. “She would never. She’d sigh loudly, tell you what a charming young man you are, and then bury me in paperwork as revenge while purchasing a staggering amount of shoes.”

“Sounds great.” Steve mumbles as he steps into the room in his workout clothes just in time to catch Tony Stark strutting out of their bathroom. “When do we start?”

There’s a definite difference between Tony and Tony Stark. Steve usually gets to see them both on a nearly daily basis, but the rumpled clothes and grease-stained fingers and birds-nest curls of Tony are nowhere to be found today. Instead, Stark smirks back at him, hair an artful mess once again, scarlet sunglasses perched on his nose, a black on black suit clinging to every line and curve. The crimson tie and pocket square are callbacks to the glasses, to the glint of red at the cufflinks that might be an outrageously expensive stone or might be a new way to call the suit, Steve’s given up on guessing.

Instead he lets his gaze lazily sweep up and over the spectacle that is his boyfriend in ‘business’ mode, and he doesn’t bother to hide what he’s thinking by the time he catches Tony smirking back over those ridiculous glasses. Maybe he blushes, a flush of pink over his nose and cheeks, but he can’t quite help it when Tony looks at him like _that_ , dressed like that, making him think things he probably shouldn’t if he’s about to run the length and breadth of New York.

Tony doesn’t blush, just smirks and blows him a kiss. “Stick a pin in that thought, Sunshine. I have work to do. See you later, hot stuff.”

“Bye Tony.” Steve smiles, soft and fond as his boyfriend disappears into the hall. “I love you.”

Tony reappears in the doorway, grinning. “You don’t have to wait until I’m out of the room to say it, honey, I love you too.”

“Get outta here.” Steve growls. “You got meetings, don’tcha?”

“I’m going, Brooklyn, I’m going.” Tony winks, sailing off. “Don’t forget your workout buddies!”

“JARVIS… you didn’t really wake them, did you?”

“I’m afraid Sir insisted, Captain. They’re waiting for you in the gym, in the hopes you might be convinced to at least show them mercy in the form of air conditioning?”

“Alright, but just this once.” Steve agrees as he heads for the elevator. “And only because Tony made them get outta bed in the first place.”

“Very good, Captain.”

 

**2\. Breakfast**

The workout with Clint and Sam goes surprisingly well, especially when Natasha joins them for light sparring and a few teamwork drills. It’s not quite a run through the city, but Steve gets plenty of exercise throwing and catching teammates and sprinting through the various obstacle course trails they design and run through. When all is said and done and he’s showered on his and Tony’s floor, he finds his way back to the communal kitchen in time to be greeted by a breakfast large enough to feed an army.

But it’s clearly been arranged by his boyfriend so it’s a five-star breakfast, because Tony wouldn’t tolerate MREs for a second. Instead there are fresh pancakes and fruit and yogurt parfaits and bacon and sausage and three different kinds of eggs, as well as Bruce working his way through building his omelet. Two baskets of baked goods sit on the counter, muffins in one, biscuits and bagels in the other. There’s a large bowl with fresh fruit, and a pan of home fried potatoes next to a full pot of sausage gravy.

“What happened here?” Stave gaped, shuffling out of the way as Sam appears with an empty plate from the sitting area.

“We were attacked by a five star chef and it was AMAZING!” Clint hoots from the sitting area to his left.

“Your boy musta felt guilty about getting us out of bed to exercise you.” Sam beamed. “He ordered a hell of a spread to make up for it. Come on, Rhodes is on his second plate already and I’m headed there myself. You don’t hurry up, you’ll miss out.”

“He can feel guilty whenever he wants!” Clint shouts from the next room. “I want this every day!”

“You are not getting this every day.” Natasha warns.

“Clint has made a three tier pancake and whipped cream monstrosity he calls breakfast.” Bruce advises as he shuffles past. “He then drowned it in syrup. Anyone got ideas on what to do with him when that sugar high hits?”

“I’m dumping him out a window to see if he’s capable of flight.” Tasha murmurs, ruffling Steve’s still-damp hair as she goes. “Morning.”

“Hiya Tash.” Steve smiles and slinks to the kitchen when the coast is clear, beginning to fill his plate. “Everyone good? Can I bring you anything?”

“Just bring a second plate for yourself when you make it out here.” Rhodey advises. “It’s a shame Thor is missing this, but then again, he’d probably eat it all.”

“Somehow I don’t think Tony would allow that.” Tasha is laughing when Steve steps into the room. “Not today, anyway.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks as he finds an empty chair and settles his plates down on the coffee table.

“Don’t worry about it, Steve.” Rhodey grins. “So, how’d the workout go?”

“Man, why didn’t you tell me Tony had robots in the gym?” Clint wondered around a mouthful of food. “I’d have been doing target practice there instead of just on the range he built!”

“Chew and swallow, then speak.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure it was in the briefing packet, man.”

“Sam, the briefing packet was like the Encyclopedia Britannica.” Clint pointed out with a level look and a dramatic swing of his fork. “No one read it.”

Steve ducked his head, tucking into breakfast eagerly and hoping no one would notice when his cheeks flared red.

No such luck, Rhodey grinned. “Steve did.”

It was going to be a long day.

 

**3\. Bouquet**

It doesn’t really occur to Steve that something might be going on until mid-afternoon. The team seems to be hovering a bit, one or two of them lingering in the room with him throughout the day. He hasn’t been alone outside of trips to the bathroom or kitchen, and even then it’s not long before someone calls out to him with some question or another.

(He doesn’t mind fetching drinks for his teammates, it’s just weird for them to think of it every time he’s out of the room for fifteen seconds.)

After lunch they all settle in the communal living room, Clint in control of the remote with Tasha supervising. Before long it’s Sam who decides they need to watch a movie. But Clint is the one who mentions Steve’s list of things to catch up on, and Tasha rides herd on them to pick out something that isn’t awful.

“I’d choose Star Wars but if we watch it without Stark, we’re all in trouble.” She admits ruefully. “That’s about all that he gets though. I think, heist movies are the order of the day.”

Clint perks, looking excited. “Oceans?”

“Oceans.” Tasha agrees, and Bruce laughs in his recliner. “Agreed.”

“By all means.” Bruce waves a hand. “I won’t even yell about the incorrect science of it all.”

“Score!” Clint crows. “JARVIS! Set us up, if you would?”

“Of course.” JARVIS murmurs. “But may I have one of you sign for a delivery? They’re in the elevator now.”

“I’ll do it.” Rhodey offers, smiling at the group as he shuffles off. “Least likely to make ‘em faint, anyhow.”

“We’ll wait on you for the movie.” Sam offers. “I’ll make popcorn.”

“Sounds good, man.” Rhodey nods and disappears down the hall, leaving Clint to juggle remotes as Sam heads to the kitchen.  

“Interesting day so far?” Tasha asks in a strange tone, attracting Steve’s attention.

“Huh?” He wonders, tilting his head. “I guess? Isn’t every day interesting, though?”

“Yeah, guess we should just be grateful there’s not a massive emergency or a call out.” Clint agrees, knocking on a side table with a closed fist in between elegant pitches of the remotes and the two coasters he picked up who-knew-where. “That would kinda suck, if you think about it.”

“No more so than any other day.” Bruce added mildly while working on his crossword puzzle.

“Yeah, right.” Clint agreed quickly. “I mean- whoa! Rhodes are you even back there?”

Steve turned to catch Rhodey stepping back into the room, a large tissue-paper wrapped bouquet of red and white roses held in his arms. There was a fondly exasperated sort of smile on his face as he shuffled over to where Steve sat and proffered the armload of long-stemmed blossoms. “It’s for you.”

“It’s… what?” Steve gaped, reflexively holding out his arms when Rhodey gently shoved the flowers toward him. He cradled the paper-wrapped bouquet gently, turning it to admire the wealth of flowers. “Really?”

“I know, who would have thought?” Rhodey laughed, shuffling back to his seat. “I wonder who they could be from.”

“You’re not funny.” Steve muttered, his face going as bright as the blooms. Unable to help himself he reached up with one hand, stroking his fingertips over petal edges until he encountered a discreet envelope and card. “I should… they need water, I should do that.”

“There’s a few vases under the sink in the kitchen.” Tasha advises in a neutral tone as she watches Steve rise. “You can help Sam carry back the popcorn, it’s perfect.”

“Yeah, right.” Steve agrees distractedly and heads off, waiting until he’s a lone in the hall to pull the envelope free and flick it open to draw out the card.

_I didn’t do anything but miss you, just so you know._

_Love, Tony_

Steve feels warmth down to his belly as he bites back a smile, pressing his face to silken petals and inhaling the rich smell of the roses. He straightens up after a few breaths, making his way to the kitchen and ignoring the low whistle Sam gives at the sight of the flowers.

“Not a word.” He warns, gently setting the bouquet down on the counter so he can dig for a vase.

“Gonna need a big vase.” Sam observes blandly as he dumps popcorn into a large bowl. “A damn big vase.”

“Zip it, Wilson, or I’ll make you run laps.” Steve advises mildly, smiling to himself as he selects a cut crystal vase, fills it with water, and gently peels the paper away so he can arrange the roses within.

“Man, if I had a phone on me I could be making a killing on social media.” Sam laments. “It’s a good thing you’re taken. Being a hero to the world, and outrageously attractive is one thing… Arranging flowers in your free time? There’s only so much the people can take, Cap.”

“Well I wouldn’t have the flowers without Tony, so no one needs to be concerned now do they?” Steve speaks without thinking, leaning forward to inhale the sweet scent of the flowers.

“Man, you’re so gone.” Sam laughed, gathering up his bowls of popcorn and heading for the door. “It’s disgusting. I’ll be in the living room with the single folks whenever you decide to join us.”

“Yeah.” Steve agrees distractedly, gently gliding his palms over the flowers again. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

If he spends another three looking at the roses with a sappy expression, only JARVIS knows.

If JARVIS tells anyone, it’s Tony. And Tony? Tony sits back at his desk in his SI office, smiling at the photo sent to him of his AI.

A photo of Captain Steve Rogers gazing in a soft kind of surprise at three dozen red roses and a dozen white.

Tony saves the photo to his phone and his personal server, but doesn’t tell a soul.

 

**4\. Massage**

Tony maybe sort of goes a little gooey at the edges when he gets back to the Avengers floors and finds Steve sacked out on the couch. Whether he intended to or not, the Captain clearly fell asleep while sketching his new bouquet of roses. The crystal vase sits centered on the coffee table, glinting in the afternoon sun. Perfect red and white blooms bob in the water on elegant green stems, arranged just so by an artist’s hand.

Steve’s sprawled on the sofa, his face soft and relaxed in sleep, still canted toward the flowers. There’s a sketchbook on his chest and a few pencils sitting in the roll of fabric they’re usually bundled in for transport. The card is within reach too, a scrap of vanilla colored parchment folded in amongst the pencils.

Tony wants to cast the sketchbook aside and drape himself over Steve like a blanket, wants to wake him up with soft kisses and gentle touches and maybe a nip here and there just for the sake of making Steve growl. There’s no other Avenger in sight and he could probably get away with it too, rules about decency on the communal floors be damned. But that’s not the plan tonight, so he shoves the impulse away.

Instead, Tony peels off his jacket and tie and sunglasses, stuffing the smaller objects in a pocket before casting the whole thing over a convenient chair arm. He kicks his shoes off for good measure, crossing the room on silent, socked feet. Stripping away his cufflinks and deftly rolling his sleeves, he steps up to the arm of the couch and leans over it, gently curling his hands over Steve’s shoulders. He grips gently for a moment, admiring the strength caught beneath his palms, then released the hold. Sliding his thumbs over the ridge of Steve’s collarbones he hooks them behind the soldier’s neck, giving a gentle nudge to the line of Steve’s spine before he begins to massage his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Steve makes a low sound in his throat, stretching faintly and arching into the touch like a cat. “Mmmm, Tony. Feels good.”

Soft blue eyes open for a moment, lazy and glittering, before drifting shut. “Welcome home.”

“Yeah?” Tony grins at him, soft and fond as Steve leans and shuffles and arches into his hold, clearly angling for the massage to continue now that he’s awake to enjoy it. “Thank you. You know, I’ve heard I have good hands.”

“Mmm…” Steve agrees. “The best.”

“My, that sort of compliment will go to a guy’s head, Soldier.” Tony flirts, gripping more firmly and digging his fingers into tense tissue. “You feel awfully tangled up, Handsome. Not enough exercise today? Maybe I should just peel you off this sofa and dump you in the hot tub, hmmm?”

“Better not be hearin’ those sorta compliments from anyone else.” Steve grumbles, eyes slitting open as he pouts at Tony upside down. “Probably not enough exercise, but I’m ok.”

The efficiency of such a gesture is roughly halved in such a position, but Tony manages not to crack a grin at the miffed-kitten expression his lover’s currently wearing. “Yes darling, I heard you. My magnificent hands on no one else, I promise.”

“Not worried about it.” Steve admits, sprawling back into the massage and letting his head tip back against the arm of the couch, throat bare to Tony’s gaze. “Only one I couldn’t take is Pepper, and she told me she was happy for us.”

Tony grinned, that sounded like Pepper. “You planning on taking out anyone else, then?”

“Anyone that gets your hands one ‘em?” Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Captain, I’m flattered.” Tony murmurs in in a faux-fluttery tone. “Or, they’re flattened? Maybe both.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Steve grumbles, catching Tony’s wrist and dragging the billionaire around the side of the sofa. “C’mere already, you’ve been gone all day.”

“What about your massage?” Tony wonders as he lets the Captain draw him around and then obeys the further tugging at his wrist. Bracing his hand in Steve’s he slings a knee over Steve’s denim-clad hips, straddling the soldier and bracing both palms on Steve’s pecs. “Oops, I slipped.”

Steve’s mouth curves in a lazy grin, hands curling around Tony’s hips before one slides down to grip at his thigh. “Liar. But here, lemme hold you so you don’t fall again.”

“And what am I doing that I might fall?” Tony wonders, flexing his legs slightly when Steve bucks his hips. “Careful there, Soldier boy.”

“Got a pretty good grip.” Steve argues. “You’re in good hands. Why don’t you get back to what you were doing?”

“The massage or the riding?” Tony wonders, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Well, whatever strikes your fancy, I guess.” Steve offers with another lazy grin. “I’m flexible.”

“I’ll just bet you are, Captain.” The billionaire beamed. “Care to show me just how flexible?”

 

**5\. Fireworks**

They’re half-way through dinner before a distant flash of light has Steve staring out the window. He blinks, baffled at the explosion of red and blue, his mind spinning idly before realization sets in. “Oh, my god.”

“Damn, I thought we had more time.” Tony mumbles, eyeing his wrist watch with a frown.

“What?” Steve can’t even begin to articulate the question.

On the far side of the table Clint loses it first, snorting into his beverage. Tasha laughs softly under her breath, elbowing Clint to ensure that if he does spit liquid it is in someone else’s direction. Sam, who happens to be in the direct line of fire, slides his chair away from the danger zone and begins griping affectionately at the archer.

Steve can’t even begin to focus on the words, he’s too busy slowly turning to give Tony a look of abject horror. Tony, for his part, just arches an eyebrow and sips idly at his ice water, looking cool and unruffled as Steve melts down before him and Rhodey goes to pieces on his far side. Steve is rather upset no one seems to be on his side in this, he has to admit.

“You caught up now?” The billionaire asks in a tone that’s a mix of sympathetic and fondly disparaging.

“Please tell me it isn’t.” Steve asks in a tone that’s soft and desperate and utterly mortified.

“I promised not to lie to you, but if you really want me to.” Tony shrugs, leaning back in his seat as amusement overtakes his expression. He’s grinning now, fond and wide and a little wicked. “There’s no reason at all for those fireworks, it certainly isn’t an important holiday or anything else remotely similar, Captain.”

“It can’t be.”

“It wouldn’t be nearly as fun if it wasn’t.” Tony argues, because Tony is _mean_. “I can’t wait to tell Pepper, she always says that only I would forget the day that’s supposed to be about me.”

“It can’t.” Steve wheedles at him, just a little.

“Sure it can.” Tony grins, glancing at the ceiling. “JARVIS, if you would? I think the star-spangled cat is out of the bag, so we may as well commence the festivities.”

“Very well, Sir.” JARVIS returns. “They’re on their way.”

“Who?” Steve wants to whine, to vanish under the table or hide in his and Tony’s room. Anything to get away from his cackling team.

“The rest of the guests.” Tony smiles. “The only guy I know that’s older than you, and a few friends.”

“You’re not funny at all.” Steve insists. “Please tell me this is a prank.”

“I’m afraid not.” Pepper admits as she strides in, carrying a cake with sparklers already burning merrily. “I feel like Tony’s interference was almost cheating, but at no point did he break the rules so technically he wins this round.”

Happy follows her, his arms laden with gifts. “Hiya Cap!”

“Yesssss.” Tony hisses delightedly as the cake get set down. “Do we need to sing?”

“I was heard there would be songs at this great festival!” Thor booms as he arrives. “I am saddened to have missed dinner but here for dessert!”

“Please don’t.” Steve covers his face and inhales deeply. “Please. Hi Thor.”

“Captain.” Thor nods, as agreeable as a golden retriever, and sets down a great wooden cask. “I bring you Asgardian Mead, and our warmest tidings on this, your day of birth!”

“Alright, honey.” Tony laughs, leaning forward to kiss a bright red cheek when the Captain finally raises his head. “Make a wish. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Combined with a Happy Birthday Steve Rogers nudge from my server babes, here we are!  
> This might get a +1 "Sequel" because aren't they usually a "5+1" thing? Hmmmm. _*shifty eyes*_  
>  But it's 3am and there's no beta so forgive any mistakes!


End file.
